


Peter Makes a Vampire

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Peter Makes [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Basically Peter Just Wants to Fuck Everybody, Peter-centric, Skeletons, Vampires, hints of incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started when he bit Chris Argent. But that was Derek’s fault. If Peter was to blame it was only for being a too indulgent Alpha – a mistake he made the morning after the Gerard incident that he wouldn’t repeat soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peter Makes a Vampire

It all started when he bit Chris Argent. But that was Derek’s fault. If Peter was to blame it was only for being a too indulgent Alpha – a mistake he made the morning after the Gerard incident that he wouldn’t repeat soon.

When Peter woke, nestled between two warm, overgrown boys, he almost didn’t even mind that they were in some shitty, rundown train station. Derek and Isaac were musky smelling and soft in the right places (and hard in even better ones). They’d switched around in their sleep, both wanting to be as close to their Alpha as possible.

He ran his fingers through Isaac’s hair and said to Derek, who was slowly waking, “We’re going apartment shopping today.” 

Derek, to his credit, didn’t cringe back in horror when he became aware of their more intimate positioning. Instead, gruff, voice sleep harsh, he said, “What about the Argents?” 

Peter allowed himself to look surprised, confused. “What about them?”

His nephew’s eyes opened a bit more, brow rising. “Gerard Argent turned into a skeleton and ran off into the preserve last night.”

“Yes,” Peter said slowly, as if to a child. “I was there. And?” 

“There is a _screaming skeleton_ running around _our_ woods, who turned into a skeleton after _you_ bit him.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that, Derek, dear.” Peter scoffed, and then, addressing him as a child again, explained, “An Alpha bite cannot and has never been able to turn someone into a walking skeleton.”

“That doesn’t mean that the Argents won’t think you did it! The timing was suspicious!” 

Isaac, now finally waking because of Derek’s increasing volume, pressed his face into Peter’s chest and inhaled deeply. “I’m hungry,” he groaned. “Can we get breakfast?” 

“Oh my God,” Derek said.

“Derek,” Peter chided. “Don’t be rude.” and to Isaac he cooed, petting his curls once more, “Of course, my darling heart, we can get breakfast.”

“ _But the Argents -_ ”

“Isaac is hungry.” Peter said fiercely. “What kind of Alpha do you think I am – not taking care of my Betas’ needs?”

“Oh my God.” Derek said, this time to the ceiling, rolling onto his back.

Peter sat up, urging Isaac up as well. He sighed when he looked down at Derek, still sulking. “I’ll go and deal with our Gerard problem,” he conceded. “You and Isaac can look for my other two Betas. We’ll check into a hotel tonight and look for somewhere to live that hasn’t been condemned tomorrow.” 

Derek peeked up at him. Peter, in a perfect mood, flicked his finger over Derek’s nose and grinned when he was awarded with a less than thrilled looked. “Come get breakfast with me and Isaac.” and to sweeten the deal, he promised, “I’ll buy you one of those sugary iced coffees you love so much.”

“When I was sixteen!” Derek objected, sitting up as Isaac snickered. Peter smiled too and didn’t think about the screaming man in the forest.

* * *

They had breakfast at Denny’s. Isaac wouldn’t stop groaning over the food, but it was subpar in Peter’s opinion and the coffee was terrible. The only thing that made the whole ordeal tolerable was Isaac’s enjoyment (and Derek’s unenjoyment) of it. Derek glowered at his skillet and his plastic glass of caramel iced coffee that he was pointedly trying not to drink. He failed and dourly seemed to like it.

Peter settled the bill and then sent his Betas in search of the rest of their Pack. He leisurely strolled to the preserve, after picking up an apartment listing and perusing it in a cozy café with an actually decent cup of coffee.

It didn’t take long for Peter to find the Argent kin. Chris didn’t seem super interested in stealth that afternoon. Peter considered sneaking up behind the hunter and surprising him, but figured it would be a good way to get shot. He stepped on a twig purposefully, Chris’s head snapping towards him, gun raised. 

“Are you planning to shoot a skeleton with that?” Peter drawled, smiling at the gun as Chris glowered and held steady, “Or were you hoping you’d run into me?” 

“Peter.” Chris growled.

“ _Christopher_.” Peter imitated. “How nice to see you again. How’s your wife?”

Chris’s gaze turned icier, which Peter hadn’t really thought possible. “She’s dead.”

“Oh.” Peter said, smile faltering. He might have missed more while he was gone than he anticipated. “Well, then. I’d say she could be better.” 

“What do you want, Hale?” the hunter gruffed, weapon still drawn.

“I thought I could help,” Peter said, voice smooth, a friendly smile in place. “These are _my_ woods, after all.”

“You’ve done enough.” Chris snapped, but put his gun down. “Besides, you wouldn’t want a stray bullet to hit you; and everyone’s feeling antsy today.” It sounded like a threat. Peter thought that was charming.

But he sighed in mock-defeat, deeply put upon. “Well, I tried. I did my best. Good luck, Christopher.” Peter turned to leave, but then looked back. “Just out of curiosity, what _are_ you planning to do if you catch him?”

“ _When_ we catch him,” Chris corrected, and then seemed to hesitate. “We’ll put him down.”

“Ah,” Peter nodded, and then added, “But how exactly do you plan to do that.” And he reminded him, “He’s an animated skeleton.” 

“I know that.” Chris grit out through his teeth. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“Well, if you’re sure.” Peter smiled indulgently, moving to leave again. However, as he did, he heard the faint sound of shrieking coming towards them. 

“What?” Chris asked, weapon raised again, stance widening for stability. “What is it?”

“Your father’s on his way.” Peter hummed, backing up towards the hunter.

“Hale, stay where you are.” 

Peter came up close to him, flashing his white teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to protect me, Mr. Hunter?” He scanned the woods again, Gerard’s screaming seeming now to be heading around and not towards them, and felt something press against his lower back. “Oh, Chris,” Peter drawled, delighted. “Is that your pistol, or are you just happy to see me?” 

“Take a wild fucking guess and shut up.” the other man growled, hot and close to his ear.

“I sometimes forget how uncharismatic you can be.” Peter told him.

“Hale, shut up.” Chris repeated.

“Your bonehead father is going to pass us by.” Peter said in a mocking hush. “You can get back on your quest for daddy deadest.” 

“Which way did he go?” 

“I wouldn’t now.” Peter lied and took a step away. Just as soon as he did that, Chris was pulling the trigger, shooting him in the back, and it wasn’t wolfsbane but it still _hurt_ , so Peter reared on him, tackled him to the ground, a took a chunk out of his side.

Chris initially yelled at the contact, and Peter didn’t really blame him – but he’d been hurt too, so he figured they were even and a half. After a moment, Chris’s heart went into overdrive, looking at his skin, panicking, “Oh, no, oh, fuck.”

Peter watched with some interest. If he wasn’t lying, he might have been half interested in seeing if the skin melting allergic reaction to werewolfism was genetic. 

“What did you do that for?” Chris hissed, voice coming out ore terrified than Peter was sure he’d meant. 

The wolf placed an affronted hand over his chest. “You _shot_ me.” he whined, sounding deeply upset.

“I’m gonna - ” Chris said, still watching his own skin in fear and anticipation. “If I - ”

But a minute passed and Peter sighed, the likelihood of a second screaming skeleton Argent to haunt the woods seemingly low. “Pity.” Peter sighed. “I suppose you’ll just be a werewolf.” He stood, dusting his pants off.

“Like hell I will.” Chris seethed, staggering up as well, hand clutching his side.

Peter shrugged. “Or you’ll be dead. But if those were my two options – I think I’d know what I’d prefer.” And with a final wink, he left Chris Argent bleeding in the forest for the other hunters to find.

* * *

“You _bit_ Chris Argent?” Derek nearly yelled. He had his previous and now Peter’s wayward Betas behind him, looking tired and frazzled but not that much worse for the wear. 

They’d apparently heard foreign wolf calls in the woods and treed themselves – high enough whatever threating Pack Peter would have to deal with had lost their scents. The main problem was they’d apparently gotten stuck and their cellphones couldn’t get service, and babies like them couldn’t howl yet because Derek was a shitty Alpha.

Peter was better. “Derek,” he scolded, ignoring him completely. “Did you even think to get these two a hot meal? Or some warm clothes? You must’ve been so frightened,” he cooed. The two baby Betas didn’t seem to know what to make of him. Peter crowded around them, regardless, getting their scents memorized. 

“I sent Isaac out for pizza.” Derek grumbled, folding his arms. ‘That doesn’t have anything to do with our current issue which is that you thought it would be a good idea to bite Chris Argent!”

“He startled me.” Peter drawled, a hand on the tall one’s - _Boyd’s_ \- neck. The chesty blonde was forcing her way under his arm, which was as promising as it was endearing. “Besides, don’t you think Chris would make a wonderful wolf?” and, feigning an epiphany, Peter asked, ‘Or are you worried he might replace you as my second?” He tsked. “How many times must I tell you Derek; family comes first.”

Derek growled. “What about when _his_ family decides to target us because _you_ can’t stop biting their leaders?”

“That’s why you train a wolfpack, Derek.” Peter said, rolling his eyes, the _duh_ implied. Isaac came in with a stackfull of pizza boxes, and any conversation that might have been held was put on hold. 

Halfway through, Erica laughed abruptly. “You know, it’s funny.” she said. “Derek bit Jackson and he turned into a lizard monster. Peter bit the old fucker, and now he’s a skeleton. You guys don’t have the greatest track record at making actual werewolves.” 

Boyd was nudging her side, sweetly and silently telling her to shut the fuck up, while Derek grumbled, “I made the three of you, didn’t I?”

Peter thought it was endlessly funny, and an apt observation because Derek really had fucked up when turning some self-entitled yuppie who reeked of emotional issues. “Lighten up, Derek.” he drawled. “It’s just a joke.”

“Yeah,” Isaac piped in. “No one actually think you two can’t make a werewolf.” And he topped it off with a slightly strained laugh and an awkward heart blip that Peter really didn’t understand. 

When Chris Argent turned, it’d lay all these fears to rest.

* * *

Peter and his Pack scouted a few nice lofts out over the next few days, Derek bitching and moaning all the way. Peter thought that Derek might have forgotten they were rich, forgotten they were superior and deserved nice things like running water and warm beds. He decided his second big goal, right after whipping the puppies into shape, would be to remind Derek of these things. After all, it wasn’t like there were any other pressing matters he had to attend to.

Although, there was Chris Argent, and if Peter thought it over, he hadn’t seen or heard from the man in a number of days. Usually that would have meant that death had impeded the turning, resulting in no Packbond, but he also figured he would have heard at least something if Chris had died. After all, the man did have a child that went to school with the others. Certainly, one of the teenagers would have shared information like that. 

He figured he should feel obligated to at least _try_ to look into the hunter’s status, but he had apartment shopping and training and, really, he couldn’t be fucked one way or another when it came to Chris. All of his main draws were aesthetic or technical. Personality-wise, he was basically shit, and Peter liked to believe he had some standards for kin.

So, it wasn’t until about a week later, when the baby Argent was at his door, that he had more than a passing thought about his latest bite.

“Me and my dad are supposed to be in France right now.” she opened with, and Peter gave a small raise of the eyebrows as if to say _how nice_ and _so what?_ at the same time. “It’d been planned even before Mom - ” she swallowed, collected herself. “And so you can imagine how much I was hoping to get away after everything with Gerard.”

“Please arrive at something resembling a point soon.” he entreated, “My stories are on.” 

Allison gave him a very dirty look, a very dark one, that almost made Peter like her. “You bit my father.” 

Peter tapped a finger on his chin in pseudo-consideration. “Now, who would that be?”

“ _Chris Argent_.” she bit out.

“Oh, in that case, yes,” he pursed. “I did bite your father – but I promise,” he said, hand to heart, “It wasn’t the first time.”

To her credit, she let the insinuation roll over her. “Something went wrong.” And, in a slight movement, she shifted her feet and suddenly looked very young and very sad and very vulnerable. 

It occurred to Peter, here, that maybe he really had killed Christ Argent. He considered what to say. “Not everyone reacts well to it.” he offered lamely. “Do you have family you can stay with?” 

And the look that dawned over her face wiped away any sympathy Peter might have been trying to feel. “You think I came here, _unarmed_ , to tell you that you killed my father?”

When she put it like that, he wasn’t quite sure. “No?”

“You turned him _wrong_ , Peter.” she finally spat. And just like that, Peter’s heart truly sank. He was glad he’d sent the Pack out on an errand. Derek would never let him hear the end of this if he found out. 

“I - ” he began, but couldn’t process. “A skeleton?”

“No.” she said. “I have a suspicion of what – but I want you to come see first. And then you’re going to fix it.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a trap.” he allowed.

“Then bring someone with you! Bring the whole Pack! _I don’t care_.” she enunciated. 

“Why don’t you just go to your hunter friends?” he asked. “Surely, they’re more equipped to deal with whatever _thing_ your father has become.”

“They think dealing with him would be putting a stake through his heart,” she muttered. “It has to be you. You’re the Alpha.”

“Allison,” Peter sighed, tired. “Did you say stake?”

* * *

He took Boyd with him, because he figured he was the most polite and well-behaved Beta. Derek may have been his Second, but until he lost the tile of Number One Pain in Peter’s Ass, he couldn’t be trusted with sensitive matters like the Argent Dilemma. 

It was turning dusk by the time Allison arrived with Peter and Boyd, a familiar blue Jeep parked outside the Argent house. Peter didn’t know whether to groan or to laugh. Scott’s little band of friends certainly had a way of riling him up.

“He should be waking up now.” Allison said, unlocking the door. “I had Scott and Stiles stay with him, just to make sure he was okay.” which Peter could plainly see when Allison opened the door. The two boys were eying a very sullen, very tried looking Chris Argent who seemed to be just coming upstairs. 

“How lucky for you to have found one of the only houses in California with a basement.” Peter said, and Chris glowered at him. His eyes were silvery pale, his face starting to look gaunt. “I assume you haven’t fed yet, then.”

Chris’s eyes flickered over to the two boys for a split second, long enough for Peter to adorn his face with an appropriate smirk. He was sure, to a starving vampire, two healthy young boys, one a virgin, must have smelled wonderful. Peter could understand. Chris looked at Peter and his eye got stuck on something over the wolf’s shoulder, on Boyd – also virginal and young and _warm_ – and so he looked up at the ceiling. 

“Not yet,” he finally said, lisping around his fangs. Peter thought that was adorable. Little newborn vampire, dropping his fangs at just the thought of a hot meal.

“Well, then, we’ll be off.” Peter nodded, gesturing to Boyd that it was time to move along.

“What?” Stiles squawked. “You just got here! You’re supposed to fix this!”

“And I _will_.” Peter huffed. “In fact, this is a relatively easy job. I just have to get a few things from Deaton and then Daddy will be right as rain again.”

“Please don’t call me Daddy.” Chris gruffed.

“Your fangs are still out.” Peter teased. “Be good, and don’t eat anyone while I’m gone, dear.” he said, turning to the door, a hand guiding Boyd in front of him. There was no way he was leaving his Beta with a hungry baby vampire. 

Chris muttered something nasty while Peter was leaving, which Peter politely ignored. He couldn’t let himself be baited, not when he had such a mess to clean up.

“Is it really an easy fix?” Boyd asked, walking down the sidewalk to Peter’s car.

Peter looked over at his Beta, nerves replaced with a fondness for his pup. He grinned, a hand still on the boy’s lower back. “You wanna learn how to do some magic?”

* * *

Deaton was relatively helpful, in that he left Peter and Boyd alone, saying he had actual patients to look after and he knew Peter could handle himself.

“Does he have everything we need?” Boyd ask as Peter looked through Deaton’s cabinets.

“Well…” Peter sighed, grabbing some of this, a little of that. He met Boyd’s eyes with a put upon _c’est la vie_ expression. “We’ll make it work.” Grabbing the bottled vampire blood, he said, “Once I can start building our own stores, we’ll be more than set.” He laid it all out on a small, metal table with a burner and some bowls. “Deaton’s tried his best, but he doesn’t come from a family like mine.”

Boyd raised his eyebrows, but there was a smile touching his mouth.

Peter thought the young man was simply delightful. “We have _secrets_.” he told him. “Darling, you’re part of a legacy now.”

“Sounds good.” Boyd allowed. 

“Oh, I imagine it does.” and Peter, breaking their moment of inactivity, taught Boyd the proper way to perform this particular magic.

“It’s an awfully simple spell.” he allowed, tempted to say _so let’s take our time_. If Chris wasn’t going to react correctly – if Argent blood was so polluted that a werewolf couldn’t be born from it – Peter almost wanted to make him sweat for a while. Unfortunately, a young thing like Chris would only be getting hungrier and hungrier and Peter wasn’t sure how to reverse it if Chris fed. “The hardest part is getting the vampire blood to read as my own.”

“What?”

“The way to turn a new vampire back is to have them drink their sire’s blood, mixed with a few other things. That’s the easy part. The hard part is I’m not actually a vampire.” He stopped mixing and pouring to check Boyd’s face to make sure he was following, which seemed to be the case. “So, we’ll need a binding spell.

“The idea of it isn’t new – but years ago I would have had to waited for the moon to be in the right position, and we’d need fresher blood than this, but there’s a relatively new way of getting all that done much faster.” He turned to scavenge a knife from Deaton’s cupboards. He paused, correcting, “Or, it was new six years ago. I guess it must be commonplace at this point.”

“It’s new to me.” Boyd assured him.

“That’s sweet of you.” Peter told him, and sliced his hand over the bowl so his blood could drip in. He put the whole thing over the burner to get the herbs smoking.

“What do you want me to say to Derek and the others?” Boy asked after a brief moment of silence. Peter gazed at him, and suddenly felt very lucky, almost proud of his nephew’s choice in Betas, even if it had been almost completely random.

“We’ll just say we were building trust with the local hunter population and leave it at that.”

“And if they keep asking?” Boyd furthered, not seeming worried, only practical and cognizant of his packmates’ natures.

“Please express to them that I won’t be happy if they push this infinitesimal issue.” Peter shrugged, “And if they keep hounding you after that, I’ll deal with them.” The mixture was smoking white, meaning the binding was successful. 

Peter gave it a final mix and strained it over the sink. He poured a vial full and gathered up his things, saying, “Usually I like to leave a place cleaner than when I arrived, but we’re in a bit of a time pinch. Deaton will understand.” he promised the teenager, who inclined his head in a nonchalant shrug-nod. Peter led him, a familiar hand on his back again, flashing Deaton a huge smile through a window on their way out.

* * *

When they got back to the Argent house, it was clear that something was off. There was a static sort of tension that seemed to indicate the teens and the baby vampire had been between bouts of either shouting or violence when Peter and Company strolled in. 

More than this, there was a heavy scent of blood, apparent immediately, and the Stilinski boy was pale, sitting on the couch, with a hand to his neck - which did nothing really to keep his shirt or the upholstery safe from any sort of red stain. Allison was standing over him, fretting, and Scott was half-shifted, restraining Chris, looking longingly at his damsel of a best friend. 

Chris Argent, for his part, looked stoically guilty and very far away from actually needing to be restrained. There was blood all down his chin and throat, and his tongue kept dipping out in a nervous tick. He only glanced away from Stiles and where he was sitting, bleeding so enticingly, for a moment, catching Peter’s eye and then dodging. 

“Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” Peter said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Please tell me you didn’t just feed.”

“I did.” Chris said.

“ _Ugh!_ ” Peter sighed, practically throwing his hands into the air, pushing the antidote into Boyd’s solid, broad chest and letting go, not caring if it fell and shattered. “Now my painstakingly crafted vampirism cure is useless! I ask you to do _one_ thing!”

Chris’s eyes got wide and, because of the fresh blood giving his cheeks some color, he was able to pale in discomfort. “You didn’t tell me that it wouldn’t work if I fed.” 

“I said,” Peter snarled, slowly, like to a willful child, “Not to eat anyone.” 

“Well, excuse me! I thought you were just being a dick!”

“You usually are being a dick.” Stiles murmured, fingers trembling, eyes unfocused. 

“Oh, for the love of God – would someone get him to a hospital or Deaton before he bleeds out on the Argent’s couch and I have _another_ problem to deal with because apparently hunters are even more incompetent that I previously believed. Honestly,” he snapped, voice raising in anger, “I cannot _think_ with the smell of virgin twink blood this strong.”

Allison ushered Stiles up, the boy mumbling an almost incoherent, “Twink has a smell? _I’m a twink?_ ” as he was passed to the teen wolf, who picked him up bridal style and carried him out the door.

Peter sighed in semi-relief once the door was shut behind them. “Please understand that this is no longer my responsibility; that is to say, this is even less of my responsibility than it was before, which was, to begin with, a low level of responsibility.” he started. “I made you an antidote with my _own_ blood as your _sire_ , but now it’s worthless! I bled for you, Chris, and this is what I get? Children should listen, but I suppose every parent must learn this. I can’t believe turning Scott wasn’t enough of a warning to me.” 

The Argents sent him nearly identical stares, part confused part frustrated. Peter waved a hand in the air as if to say _but what can you do?_ “Enjoy being a vampire, Chris. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in a century or two, after you’ve accustomed yourself to devouring young boys like you so clearly want to.”

“That’s it?” Allison sputtered as Peter made to leave. “’Sorry not sorry, you’re on your own?’”

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough.” Peter drawled with a wide, icy smile. “I made your father a cure, but it only works if the vampire has never fed – hence me expressing that he should refrain from this. Because he is an adult and not a five year old, I did not feel it was necessary to forbid him from feeding, which was clearly wrong on my part. Now, yes, you’re on your own. I have no desire to help you find other solutions.”

“But there are other solutions?” Chris asked immediately, ignoring the rest of Peter’s diatribe.

“Nothing _simple_.” Peter hissed. “Nothing I know off the top of my head. And, frankly, I have enough going on in my own life. I don’t need Argent drama.” 

“Where are the other cures?” Chris continued on, taking a step towards him, voice eager and rough. His cheeks were pinking with nerves, mouth still obscenely red.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, in _books_ , you Neanderthal!” Peter shook his head and looked back at Boyd, hoping to share a look of distain. The teenager was checking his phone. Peter couldn’t really blame him. “Do you know what _books_ are, Chris?” 

Chris grit his teeth. “I know what books are, Peter.”

“Well, then!” the wolf huffed, “I’m sure you’ll be able to parse something out in twenty, thirty years with that sort of attitude and - ”

“He has to eat the ashes of a vampire.” Boyd piped in. Peter blinked. He glanced back at the boy. “It says right here; ‘consume the ashes of an elder vampire.’ There’s some speculation that it has to be the sire, but the sire may just have to be present.” Boyd met his Alpha’s eye. “I Googled it.”

“Oh.” Peter said. He looked back at the two Argents, both of them looking a little dumbfounded. “Well, there you have it. Call me when you bag a vamp. I’ll help you burn it if you like.” 

Chris mumbled something noncommittal and Allison nodded, herding the wolves out the door, already making plans. 

Outside, as they walked to the car, Peter held Boyd’s hand, saying, “You did very well. That Google thing was very practical of you – but try not to give away that kind of information again. Not to people like _that_.” he explained, gently, genuinely. 

To Peter’s surprise, Boyd looked more sheepish than anything else, and he let Peter usher him into the car.

* * *

Peter once again forgot about Chris Argent and his stupid bullshit – on purpose this time. The only time he really brought it up is when he chanced upon Stiles and Scott in the neighborhood Starbucks and he took the time to leer at the both of them, eyes raking down Stiles’s bruised neck, smirking at the protective hold each boy seemed to be trying to put the other in. He flashed his eyes at Scott, snapped his fangs at Stiles, and then swiped someone else’s Frappuccino and left.

Derek was less than pleased with Boyd and his secrecy, but Peter wouldn’t have been able to put up with him for so long if he hadn’t learned one or two ways to shut him up. And once they got their new loft, Derek was able to nest and brood, and Peter let him. After all, Derek seemed tired. He hadn’t slept for six years and then followed it up with a month-long nap, like some people had.

Jackson was sniffing around their den more and more, and the Beta babies were so _needy_ , and honestly Peter really had gone from purposefully ignoring the thought of Chris Argent to outright forgetting about him when he showed up on Derek and his doormat with something in a knapsack. Whatever was in there was angry and feisty and only seemed to have a handle over very crass language.

“Ah.” Peter stated, glad Derek was out for a run. Chris looked at him expectantly, and Peter stepped to the side to allow him in. The hunter looked down at his feet in shame and a spark of delight ran through Peter. “Oh, my, how could I have forgotten? Won’t you please come in, Mr. Argent.”

Chris did and, once the door was shut, threw the squirming, cursing bag to the ground. Peter took the both of them in.

“You’re looking well fed.” Peter grinned. “Have you been harassing local prostitutes? Or maybe you visited the all-boys boarding academy in Carlsbad.” 

“Allison,” Chris tried to get out.

“Your own daughter!” Peter gasped. He clucked his tongue once. “That’s hardly what I expected from such an outstanding father as yourself.”

“Her _friends_ ,” he bit out. “The Stilinski one helped a few times, and then Scott’s mother started to bring me bags from the hospital.”

“Scott’s mother?” Peter repeated, now completely sidetracked. “ _Melissa_. Yes, what a wonderful, attractive woman. That was very kind of her. Did she deliver them to you herself?” he asked, with only a hint of jealousy. 

Chris glared at him, like he thought Peter wasn’t being serious. “No.” he snapped after a moment. “I’ve been busy, catching a vampire _like you told me to_.”

“I didn’t tell you to do anything of the sort. If anything, I told you to just be a vampire. I mean, honestly, isn’t it at least better than being human?”

“No.”

Peter sighed. “Fine, fine. Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

What Chris had brought him was apparently a bald, pale-headed vampire child, it’s little white fangs bared, it’s features awkward and clumsy on it’s face.

“I’m gonna eat your hearts out of your shitfucking chests.” the little vamp brat hissed. He had some sort of accent, but not anything to indicate that he was very old. British, probably. 

“I thought vampires only turned beautiful children.” Peter remarked to Chris. “I really am trying to find something pleasant about this little beast, and I’m afraid that even _I’m_ not perceptive enough.” Chris shrugged.

“Come on, you ugly son of a dickcheese-eating whore. Come on, you sore-sucking, cum-guzzling shitrag. Let me out and fight me like a real man, not some pussy-scented twat-mouthed - ”

“Oh, really, Chris.” Peter sighed, opting to ignore the foul mouthed demon child. “This is what you bring me?”

“He wasn’t too far away and he’s been giving some contacts of mine trouble.” 

“ – come here, I’ll shove my dick in your ass and let you slurp the shit off after I beat the piss out of you, you fucking – ” 

Peter punched the child in the face. It didn’t really stop him from throwing out general and slightly incomprehensible insults. Peter hit him again, and then a third time, growling, “Shut up you ugly mistake.” And when that got a pause out of the vampire, Peter said, triyng to sound reasonable, “Do you really want to spend your last few minutes on earth spouting out disgusting nonsense?” It may have been the wrong thing to say, because it got the vampire kid even more riled up, back to struggling and cursing, even louder than before. Peter hit him one last time. 

“What the fuck?” Derek choked out from the doorway. Peter sighed and glanced over to Chris.

“Can we get a gag on this thing? I wasn’t able to hear Derek coming in over its racket, so…” Chris nodded and dug around the bag while Peter looked over at his nephew, standing dumbstruck. Peter thought he looked nice, a little sweaty and out of breath, muscles loose, face tight with horror. His tank was low in the front, and Peter see he was growing his chest hair out again.

“Peter!” Derek snapped, gesturing to where Chris was forcing a ball gag into the other vampire’s mouth. 

“Oh, uhh, yes.” Peter said, trying to refocus. “Cat’s out of the bag, Derek; Chris Argent is a vampire and I’m helping him turn back.”

“But, that’s a kid.” Derek said, pointing to the kid. He took a step forward, which allowed Peter to sidle up behind him and shut the loft door.

“That is how it appears, yes, but let me assure you that thing is very old and incredibly rude. Chris, take the gag off so Derek can hear.”

“Really? I _just_ got it on.”

“Oh, never mind. Take my word for it, Derek. It’s not worth your worry. Now, why don’t you slip into the shower and Chris and I will take care of this on our own. I’ll be back to watch _Project Runway_ with you in no time.” He gave Derek a little pat on the ass, hoping it would nudge him towards the bathroom and out of Peter’s hair. It only made him angrier. 

“Why is Chris Argent a vampire? Why are you helping him? How do you expect to hide a _child’s body?_ ”

“There won’t be much of a body by the end of this.” Chris gruffed. 

“Ah, Chris Argent; ever the master of the soft sell.” Peter grinned, showing all of his teeth to the hunter. Chris made a face back. Derek was still angry and blinking in his Alpha’s direction.

“Darling, I don’t know what you want. Chris got bitten and now he’s a vampire. And I’m not a total monster. I actually _can_ help people.” He tried to look sincere. Derek, for all he tried not to trust anyone, would deep down always be a sucker. “Why don’t you go and relax. I’ll be home soon,” he promised.

“I’m coming too.” he demanded.

Chris sighed, but Peter wasn’t really in the mood to prolong this evening. “Fine, fine,” he said. “Help us get it in the car.”

* * *

“So, you bit another person and the bite turned out wrong again?” Derek clarified after Chris had explained the entire situation, much to Peter’s dismay. “This is serious. I think we may need extra help.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, ignoring the pounding and kicking from the trunk. “Help from whom, exactly? Deaton? Other wolves? Oh, wonderful idea, Derek. Let’s broadcast to all the bordering Packs that the Beacon Hills Alpha can’t make a werewolf – even though it’s obviously just the Argents’ fucked up genetics that's causing me trouble.” 

“Peter, there’s a point where your arrogance goes from obnoxious to actually dangerous. We’re hitting that point.” Derek tried to explain.

“You better watch your mouth, dear. It might get you into trouble.” Peter hummed, red eyes meeting nephew’s hazel in the rear-view. 

“Pull up over there.” Chris said. “We’re deep enough in.” 

They parked and Peter watched Chris and Derek pull the struggling sack out of the trunk, dumping him on the ground and then starting to douse him with lighter fluid.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter piped in, right as they were finishing. “I mean, you _are_ going to be eating its ashes.” Chris sent him a bitchface and flicked a match. 

Peter almost wished they’d taken the gag off. It was sort of boring, watching a vampire burn and not getting any sort of soundtrack besides muffled shouting and the crackle of flames. And, as everyone knew, vampires went up like paper, so it wasn’t long before there wasn’t really anything left that _could_ have made noise. 

Vampires, as durable and dangerous as they were, were oddly self-contained in their flammable nature, and the young brat put himself out before spreading, which Peter was relieved to see. 

It was still shouldering when Chris fell to his knees as if in a trance. 

“Why, sweetheart,” Peter drawled half-heartedly. “You’ll burn your tongue if you don’t let your dinner cool first.” but Chris Arent was already shoveling handfuls of ash into his mouth, chewing the gray grains, swallowing it down and opening for more. 

“How much does he have to eat?” Derek whispered.

Shrugging, Peter made an uncertain noise, eyes fixed, enraptured with the sight of Chris Argent gorging himself on a dead vampire, gagging and suffering onwards before them. 

His hands were dusty and gray and a little pastey where he sucked the ash off his fingers. It was in his beard, making it look much darker, and all over his mouth. Peter almost wanted to cluck his tongue and clean him off with a handkerchief like a diligent father. He figured such urges could wait.

The more Chris ate, the more he retched, causing Peter to ask, “Did we bring water?” which they hadn’t thought to but Chris had some extra bottles in his trunk. By the time Derek got the hunter one, he’d choked down all the ash that wasn’t mixed with forest dirt. He took the bottle and drank greedily, sucking it down, spilling down his chin and throat and t-shirt. 

“Is he cured?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know.” Peter murmured. “Chris, are you cured?” Chris looked over at him, his eyes maybe less silver than before, and said nothing. “Do you still want to eat little boys?” and when his only response was a glare, Peter laughed. “Sorry, I know that’s no real indication of whether you’re human or not. But do you want to drink their blood?”

Chris gazed at him, and then down at the ash on his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I might have to wait.” 

“Oh, by all means. No rush.” Peter told him. “After all, if we’ve failed, you’ll have all the time in the world.” 

Peter drove them all back to the loft and tossed the keys to Chris. Just as he and Derek started to head up, he turned and asked, “Did any of you ever end up finding your dear, old, skeleton dad?”

Chris looked in the direction of the woods. In the dark, in the light of the streetlamp, Peter thought he looked incredibly human, fragile. 

“No.” Chris said, and he got in his car and drove off.

The next day, Peter learned through his Betas that Chris had been cured. His enjoyment of the news was tampered by his lack of sleep the night before. He’d been racking his brain to figure out what to do with these false-turning situations. Possibly, hypothetically, could they be related to him?

He’d have to run some experiments.

**Author's Note:**

> Come kick around with me on [my tumbley](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/).


End file.
